


Raze

by Cumvore, Slither-the-least (baeberiibungh)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Aftermath, Anal Sex, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Established Relationship, Grooming, M/M, Masochism, Murder, Oral Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Sexual Abuse, Uncle/Nephew Incest, Unsafe Sex, hitman - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 09:43:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7929922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cumvore/pseuds/Cumvore, https://archiveofourown.org/users/baeberiibungh/pseuds/Slither-the-least
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek, who had been rejecting every advance on him as soon as he had come in, lay one hand on those hands and squeezed before pulling the owner of those hands before him...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Raze

**Author's Note:**

> Shits been tagged guys, so squicks and triggers get another reminder to heed. 
> 
> Also, 'DON'T FUCKING LIKE? DON'T FUCKING READ!!!'

Stiles picked the locked door open with minimal effort and walked out. The rooftop was empty. He could hear the whirr of loud fans somewhere as well as the clank shift of the lifts. He had on his red hoodie and a beanie hat, cheeks red from the cold and the exertion of climbing the stairs for so many flights to escape the small camera wedged in the corners of the said lifts. He had on thin but warm gloves on. He rubbed his hands once before putting down his guitar case. Stiles moved around, making sure that no one was there with him indeed. Satisfied, Stiles opened his guitar case and started to assemble the gun. It was one of Stiles’ favourite. 

Stiles pulled off his gloves, got into position behind the half wall of the roof that worked as the parapet and took aim at seven buildings over, into an office where an old man was sitting and grimacing at two younger men as he talked with emphasis. Stiles breathed in and out slowly a few times, making sure to eye the piece of cloth he had tagged to the building three weeks ago. It was a ragged dirty piece of cloth now, but perfect to check the speed of wind and direction. The weather people had said that it will be a still night, no eddy currents nearby and the timing between 7 and 8, when the traffic went too hot and the air sizzled, it would make the least amount of influence.

Stiles closed his eyes, took a long and deep breath and let go. He didn’t take the next breath till the old man’s forehead was in the calculated sight of his gun. He released his breath, took in another, released that as he pulled the trigger, not flinching even a little. The kick was low, the longish barrel of the gun more effective in sending the bullet in a fast whirl. It was an impacted round and Stiles watched as the old man’s face suddenly disappeared in a spray of red and bits of flesh and grey matter from one second to the next. The other two men who had been in the room were moving about, the glass still falling off in small shower of broken off pieces, shock on their faces as they looked at the glass that should have been three inch thick plexi and stopped anything short of armour piercing rounds.

Stiles immediately broke down his gun, put the pieces in his guitar cases, put his gloves back on, picked up the single shell casing, pulled off his hoodie, turned it inside out so that it looked a weird olive green, took off his beanie and walked back down. He closed the door to the roof quietly. He took the elevators down for three flight before backtracking again through the stairs to go pick up his guitar case, his cap pulled low on his face. He was down and out of the building within 10 minutes, taking a rarely used back exit that ended in a fence which Stiles just stepped out through the hole he had cut into the wiring. There was a taxi waiting just outside. Stiles got in with his guitar case and then got down the other side without it.

Then he simply walked off into the crowd while the car drove off with his case.

 

......................................................................................................................................................

 

Derek was watching the TV morosely. There was some Spanish drama on it with lots of elevated emotions and ridiculous amount of hairspray and makeup. On both the men and women actors. Peter was out. _Out_ out. Derek splayed even lower on the squishy sofa, legs wide and hands on his thighs and bored out of his mind. The front door opened and someone walked in. Derek didn’t look around as only Peter had the other key to the apartment. He could hear then thump of peter putting down things by the door onto the table kept there for that purpose before he walked in. When Peter reached behind Derek, he put his hand on the front of Derek’s neck, tipping it back to give him a slow kiss.

Derek kissed him back easily, as easy as breathing, no longer so bored. He raised his hands to pull at Peter’s shoulders both side, pushing harder at the kiss, sucking on his tongue. Peter was still lightly cupping the Derek’s gorge. He pressed it a little, in warning perhaps, before standing straight. Derek looked dazed, his eyes blown, his cock stirring in his pants, mouth open, hands fallen to his side, head placed back on the back of the sofa. Peter traced his lower lip with the tip of the thumb of the hand he had on Derek’s neck. Derek licked at it, slowly, sucking it in, making kissing sounds while the TV went on. Peter petted his hair once before pulling his hand away and heading towards the bathroom.

Derek licked his lips and pretended that he did not taste blood on Peter’s thumb and that the taste did not make him instantly hard. 

 

......................................................................................................................................................

 

Chris sat alone by the head of the bar. His father was dead. Someone had turned his face into a bulls eye target practice with a personalised bullet. His blood had turned back within half an hour and now Chris was here, celebrating what felt like both the best and worst day of his life. His father was dead and all he felt was relief. He was not shocked at that. He was shocked at the intensity of that relief as if he himself was not aware how deeply he hated and feared his father. And now he was free. So as to speak. Gerard’s acolytes were snarling for revenge, to break the neck of the Mage, the only one who used such chemical reaction that turned blood black. 

A genius at chemical science, there had been reports that the Mage was an old man, a young redhead, a young boy and a black haired girl. There had never been any confirmed sights or pictures to pin the moniker. All that the world knew that the Mage was one of the top assassins the world had ever seen who had sprung up within a very short period of time. Perhaps equalling the myth and mystery of the Wolf. Just like The Mage was known for his use of chemical manipulations in his bullets and bombs, the Wolf was an expert of converting each kill into a perfect animal kill, with animal hair and saliva dripping over the slashes. Even if the kill happened at the penthouse of a tightly guarded house.

Chris slammed the shot, and when he put the glass down, Peter hale was sitting beside him, a truly mirthful smirk on his lips as he watched Chris. Chris started, jumping in his stool. The glass fell from his hands onto the bar. “Peter,” Chris said in a voice that was trying to hide too many things.

“Chris,” Peter purred. “Heard the good news, so came to join you in your celebratory drinking. I am starting to think that I am getting in debt to the Mage. The next round’s on me huh, lover? And maybe a celebratory blowjob as well to round up this perfect evening of death?” Peter asked through shining teeth as if he still could not stop smiling at the news.

“I always thought it would be you. You know, the one to kill him,” Chris said as he called for another drink.

Peter’s face went tight for two seconds, his smile disappearing completely before the mask was back in place. “So did I dream too,” he added in a rueful voice, the happiness still there under the tone.

Chris knocked down his second drink, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then turned to Peter before saying, “I thought I heard about an offer for a celebratory blowjob around here?”

Peter smiled at that, vicious with too many teeth and cruel jest in his eyes. He got up and headed out. Chris threw down a few bills to cover his drink and followed Peter. He fucked Peter’s throat with wild snarls descending his mouth, coming deep. Peter then fucked him with spit against the wall of the bar, making him grunt out hurt little gasps. Peter sent him home much sober, with an ache in his ass matching the one in his chest. Back to his tight-lipped wife and daughter who was yet to learn so much. 

When Peter got home that night and Derek opened the door to him, Peter got down on his knees and blew Derek hard and fast with the door still a little open. Derek was wild eyed and ruddy cheeked as he came almost bent double over Peter, loud breaths and whimpers falling from his mouth. After Derek came, Peter rested his head near his thighs, just breathing and thinking how he loved the sounds Derek made, as much as the hurt grunts Chris was prone to make. It took a few minutes for Derek’s legs to stop shaking, for him to get up from his curl, and pull an almost snoozing Peter up from his knees and shutting the door finally. Derek thanked his lucky stars that no one had walked by. Not that Peter would have cared.

Derek took off Peter’s clothes before pushing and pulling him into the bathroom. With a quick shower with Derek plastered behind him keeping him straight, Derek put him into the bed naked with a perfunctory rubbing with the towel before covering him up with the blankets. With Peter safely asleep, just after fucking someone too possibly, Derek took a quick shower himself and got ready to go out. He wore a Henley, black jeans and Peter’s jacket. He peeked once at Peter, put on his shoes, closed the door and locked it before going out to whistle down a taxi. He got down at a club, went in and ordered a beer. When he was halfway into that beer, hands wrapped his waist from behind and cool/wet lips nuzzled along the back of his neck tasting sweat.

Derek, who had been rejecting every advance on him as soon as he had come in, laid one hand on those hands and squeezed before pulling the owner of those hands before him. Sparkling hazel brown eyes smiled at him and then leaned in for a small kiss. Derek kissed him back and then licked his lips. He tasted something cherry.

“Come dance with me babe,” Stiles said loud to Derek as the bass thumped on the dance floor. Derek really didn’t want to, but he could not say no to Stiles when he looked that happy. He let Stiles lead him to the dance floor and tried to keep up with Stiles’ erratic movements. Stiles was not a good dancer, but he kept leaning in to give delicious kisses to Derek and rubbing himself all over him and that felt very, very, good. 

They danced for an hour or so, with a drink in the middle before Stiles decided that he had enough and this time dragged Derek right out of the club. Stiles hailed a taxi and headed to his home, where he proceeded to make Derek into a well fucked out happy mess on his bed. Stiles kept catching and pushing the come back in when it kept slipping out from Derek’s hole till it stopped leaking. Stiles crawled up and kissed blissed out Derek some more, running his hand through the hair at Derek’s stomach.

“Peter didn’t stop you?” Stiles asked after some time. There was just curiosity in his voice.

Derek shook his voice and said, “I think he went out and fucked something today. He did blow me when he returned but he was a sleepy mess just after which means he had fucked well. He was sleeping when I came.”

“Hmmmm,” Stiles nuzzled closer. “He must have heard, right?” Stiles asked this time.

Derek gave a snort before saying, “Who didn’t?”

“Does Peter still fucks you?” Stiles came with that next.

Derek’s smile went down before he gave a sigh and said, “Yeah... Yes, he does. You already know this Stiles, why are you asking?”

“Well, he has been fucking you since you are 12. I thought maybe he had gotten over you by now,” Stiles answered amicably, still kissing Derek’s suddenly tightly closed lips.

“It’s, it’s not like that. And we have talked about this. We have. Many times. So why do you still...?” Derek broke off with a hiss. 

Stiles had poked at one of the older bruises that Peter had given him. He said, “Because Peter seems to think he has some claim on you just because he forced you to make him your first. Because he still goes out fucking who knows what and denies you that. Because you seem to think that you in some ways are indebted to him for keeping you after your family died, even though all the space he gave was his own bed and his cock. Because you seem to want to forgive him so easily and let him do anything he wants to you and I have seen your face then, Derek I have, you know I have. The resignation as if that was something entirely inevitable. I, I love you and I hate him for how you love him too!”

Derek had rolled nearer to Stiles and was hiding his face by Stiles’ neck, his lips on his clavicle as Stiles ranted on some more.

“I am sorry,” Derek whispered, “I am sorry Stiles” he added.

Stiles pursed his lips and wrapped his hands around Derek to pull him closer. He also heard how Derek did not say anything about stopping Peter or the like. Stiles petted Derek’s hair before saying, “I am going to kill him one day, Der, I swear.”

“Just...not yet please Stiles. Please,” Derek said pushing back from Stiles neck to look at his face, the look on Derek’s face so sad and again resigned that if Stiles wanted he really could not stop him, stop Stiles from killing the only member of his once vast family he had because he is not that important or his words of promise so heavy.

Stiles pursed his lips, more at Derek’s expression than at his words, before pulling him closer into the hug to kiss his head. 

Derek snuggled closer, his lips trembling a bit on Stiles’ skin, possibly having a flashback from those first times that had lasted years before Derek learned to just give in, so that things become easier, so that it stopped being so hurtful and soul wrenching. The self loathing he grew when he started to enjoy it to start go looking for it himself this time and how Peter had smiled, all delighted and pleased and filthy names broken by heartfelt pleas of love and Derek had believed it all, because it got so simple like that. Peter loved him and that is how Peter loved him and how could Derek not love him back? Love him and match his love by doing everything Peter wanted because Peter wanted it and Derek loved him, didn’t he.

Of course he did. Otherwise he wouldn’t have come crying out Peter’s name loud and pulling Peter closer. Peter loved him and Derek loved him so everything was ok, everything was all right with the world. 

Then his family had burned and Derek had cried, cried for days, cradled in Peter’s lap, hating him as much as himself, sure that this is how he got punished. Sure that God found out that Derek didn’t really love Peter, just let him do bad stuff to him because he was that that greedy for the release and didn’t really care who he got it from and now his family were all ashes and they didn’t even know it was Derek to blame. They didn’t know that Derek was that weak. So what did it matter that Peter fucked him still, suddenly most often, just because he felt like it and Derek let him because he liked it too. Let Peter bite bruises into his skin and gouge crescents of blood with his nails. It really didn’t. 

And then Derek had met Stiles. Beautiful, funny, sweet Stiles with his killer hands and trickster smile and love for Derek in insurmountable amounts. Derek tried to scare him away by being an asshole to him, by being rude, but Stiles stuck by, warmth spreading from his hands over Derek wherever he touched unlike the cool absence of that he got from Peter that he thought was the norm. How he always wanted to kiss Derek even though Derek just had his mouth on Stiles cock. Derek never got to taste Peter. And every kiss has always been initiated by Peter, even when Derek had a scratchy voice and went begging for cock like Peter’s personal cock whore as he informed Derek in a fond voice.

So, Derek fell in love too. Actual love this time, not something coerced out of hands that didn’t even know what they were holding. Derek hated Peter, but he loved him too. It was not an active feeling for him now but a habit to always love Peter no matter what. To love Stiles was vastly different, his consent being asked for each time with every moment such a novelty that even after a year Derek was surprised when Stiles paused to ask. Derek knew Stiles killed for his living, just like Peter did. And isn’t it funny, so funny, that both the people Derek loves could drown in the blood of the people they have killed and it does not change one iota of Derek’s feeling for them.

Derek used to think that one day Peter will have enough of whatever facsimile of life he had and kill Derek while he is riding Peter, letting his body spasm milk out one more orgasm from Peter’s body and then turn the gun on him, tasting the hot metal with his tongue before pulling the trigger. Or maybe not. Maybe Peter will choke Derek one day while he is sleeping on his bed, finally done with him, having got rid of the itch that made him touch his sister’s tween son in the first place and have no use of him anymore. Or maybe not. Maybe Peter will break down one day and cry and beg for his forgiveness and then kill himself and leave Derek free and the most alone he had been for the rest of his life. Or, maybe not. 

Stiles kissed Derek into a deep sleep, wrapped around each other. He woke up to the smell of coffee and cooking bacon and the sight of a gun open on Stiles side of bed to be cleaned and he got up. Brushed his teeth with the toothbrush that shared Stiles’ cup, put on his boxers and walked up to Stiles like and wrapped his hands around him like Stiles had done last night at the club. Stiles turned his face, kissed Derek’s cheek and plated out the eggs he had been cooking, putting the bacon pieces he had been draining onto another plate and walked to the table, Derek following him with his hands still around his waist. Putting the plates down, which already had a plate of toast on it, Stiles turned properly and kissed Derek properly.

Stiles looked excited to do that, his eyes bright and head tipped as he smiled at Derek and stole his heart all over again. Derek was happy to let him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Lacking a beta. Mistakes all mine. Kudos and comments are most welcome


End file.
